Mischief Managed
by FatesMistake
Summary: Harry friends team up with Severus' colleagues in a bit of mischief aimed at getting our two favorite boys to stop fighting and accept what's between them. SSHP K-plus for language. Enjoy!


Harry Potter was in love.

As happens with love, there wasn't any one thing that told him this, but he knew all the same. It always happened that way in stories; you became aware of the love like a stroke of lightning, or it came gradually, like turning a dial. And there was always evidence to support the knowledge. You would dream about your love, or you'd notice an increasing affection…but that isn't how it works in real life. Harry knew, in a vague sort of sense, that he loved Snape. There had been no stroke of lightning, no increase of affection (which might have been obvious early-on, considering how little affection he already had for the man). He didn't dream about the Potions Master, his heart didn't race in the man's presence, and he definitely wasn't about to start drawing little lovesick hearts on his homework. Instead, it just _was_. And as much as he was vaguely aware of this love, he just as vaguely hated himself for it.

What was so special about Snape? He wasn't handsome, and he was a complete ass to almost everyone, especially towards Harry; and, spy or not, he had at one time been stupid enough to join Voldemort's legion of dickheads. So what could possibly make Harry feel this vague attraction to the snarky git? Nothing, that's what. And yet, he had that crooked way of smirking, and he was, in the end, a good man… In spite of Harry's best efforts, the attraction persisted. Damn that confounding man.

As a direct result of Harry's carefully hidden attraction to Snape, he had become increasingly frustrated. It didn't take long for his friends to notice. Nor was his attraction as readily hidden as he assumed. For someone as observant as Hermione Granger, it was impossible to miss how his frustration grew exponentially when the man was around. This, of course, led to even more explosive fights than any they had had previously. Snape seemed all too willing to oblige Harry's anger.

And thus a plan was devised in an effort to bring an end to the massive point loss and detention assignation. It was surprisingly easy to sway McGonagall, who, for all her strictness, harbored a dangerously conniving competitive streak. Hermione and Ron were careful to avoid telling McGonagall _why_ their plan was so necessary, and she was equally careful to avoid saying why she was agreeing to it. Hermione suspected the Transfiguration Professor knew what had slowly come to fester in the Gryffindor Golden Boy's heart.

And so, on the 31st of October, Harry Potter's last Halloween as a student of Hogwarts, a plan was enacted between two Gryffindors and two professors. To this day not a one of them knows precisely what happened as a result of their cunning. For Harry Potter it is a secret that he will take to his grave.

 _-Break-_

Severus Snape was in love.

It was a horrible state of being, this warmth that infected his body whenever the attention-seeking brat was near. His heart would flutter rapidly in his chest, and he would occasionally find himself picturing the younger wizard and wanting to _smile_. It was not a gentle love that Severus felt, but one that consumed his entire being. His soul would alight with a burning flame of desire, his dreams were no longer his own, and he had to almost constantly fight a horrifying desire to _touch_ that impossibly perfect golden skin. For a man who enjoyed his solitude and surliness, his sudden need to be near another was, to say the least, frustrating.

What was so special about Potter, anyway? He was short and gawky, a teen with no desire to improve himself. He wasn't bright, and he was a walking accident. There was nothing to recommend the younger wizard, nothing at all. And yet…he could be _charming_ , when he wasn't being a brat. And there was that small dimple in his cheek when he smiled, and his green eyes always sparkled as if the young man kept a secret. But he was infuriating, dammit! It was impossible to ignore his explosive temper and beguiling cheekiness. The boy was 90 percent sass, and the other ten percent was equal parts insufferable anger and bewitching clumsiness. So no, there was nothing to recommend him…except…

As a direct result of these tumultuous thoughts, Severus found he had little hold over his own anger. He did his best not to _start_ fights, but he did very little in the way of avoiding them. To worsen his frustration, he became increasingly aware of how attractive Potter was when he was angry. It ensnared the senses, the way the younger wizard's hair stood askance on his head, and his eyes shimmered beneath the ridiculously owlish lenses of his glasses. That dimple was there, too, the lightest hint of it puckering the corner of Potter's mouth. Damn that confounding brat.

It would have been impossible for Minerva and Filius to ignore the evidence before them. Severus Snape, in love? The mere idea boggled the mind. And yet it was clear for anyone who dared to look. And it was such a violent love that looking was a bit like staring at the sun. It was beautiful, but at the same time dangerous. It was clear to those who knew him best that if something wasn't done, this tempestuous emotion may very well injure the already-damaged Potions Master, may even leave him as but a shell of himself.

Thus a plan was formed. It didn't take long for Granger and Weasley to come to Minerva. They had their reasons, reasons which Minerva had already begun to suspect, but neither party was willing to share the evidence which had led to the unusual partnership. Minerva thought perhaps Granger had some idea of why she had agreed so readily. In any case, something _had_ to be done, and it fell to them to do it. There was some minor thrill, knowing they were acting right under the nose of the most manipulative wizard any of them had ever met.

And so, on Potter's final Halloween as a student of Hogwarts, Minerva and Filius worked alongside their two students to bring an end to the suffering of Hogwarts' heroes. It had become clear that something _had_ to be done, but not one of them knew what their cunning would bring. To this day, they four would wonder exactly what had occurred in that dungeon classroom. What tale of romance was secreted within those walls?

 _-Break-_

Harry straightened after putting the final cauldron in the stack of clean ones. He groaned as his back gave several satisfying pops. This was a fine way to spend Halloween. Still, it beat the terror that had consumed this night in previous years. Green eyes glanced to the front of the room. He felt a streak of desire course up his spine, but he shrugged it away before it could take hold. Damn that man.

Severus pretended not to notice as Potter stretched and reached at the other end of the room. He pretended not to see the flash of bare flesh beneath the younger wizard's school shirt, which had come untucked. Oh, but how he longed to trace his fingers over that golden skin. He would be gentle, at first, gently exploring each dip and curve, mapping them in his mind's eye. And then his gentleness would waver, and he would kiss those pouty lips with a fervor that terrified him even as he craved it. He would grip those slim hips hard enough to bruise. He would-

"I'm done," Potter said from the other side of the room.

Severus controlled an urge to clear his throat in embarrassment. "You are dismissed, then, Potter. Do at least try, in your infinite skill for troublemaking, to avoid starting fights you cannot hope to win in the future."

He heard Potter mutter some indistinct something, and bit his tongue to stop himself assigning another detention. The goal was to stay _away_ from the infuriating brat, and he couldn't very well do that if he kept assigning detentions. Potter moved to the door of the classroom, and Severus felt a sliver of his heart go with him. Damn that brat.

Harry gripped the door in his hand, but found it wouldn't turn. At first assuming his hand was too slick, he swiped the last residue of water on his pants leg and tried again. Again his hand twisted and the knob did not. Scowling Harry tried again, this time using both hands, and found the knob was stuck tight. He rattled the door in it's frame.

"I said you were dismissed, Potter. That means leave, as I am tired of looking at you," Snape growled from the front of the room.

Harry snarled as he tried the knob again. "Ha ha, _Professor_ ," He muttered sourly under his breath. The knob refused to so much as jiggle in it's seating. He turned to Snape angrily. "Could you unlock the door?" He demanded hotly.

Snape scowled, withdrew his wand, and waved it casually. Harry turned again to the door, but the knob still refused to move. He turned back to Snape.

"It's stuck," He bit out. What was Snape playing at?

The Potions Master stood. "What have you done to my door, Potter?"

Harry bit his tongue.

Severus stood. "What have you done to my door, Potter?" He rounded his desk.

"I haven't done anything," Potter snarled angrily.

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. What was that foolish boy playing at? He descended the aisle between the desks, and approached Potter and the door to his classroom. He reached for the doorknob, which was perpetually loose in the socket, and scowled to find it wouldn't shift the slightest bit. He turned his scowl on Potter, who smirked back triumphantly. Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to smack the younger wizard, or kiss that smirk away. He settled on curling his fist in the collar of Potter's shirt and pulling the young man within reach of either.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

The brat struggled against him, causing sparks to light up Severus flesh every time their bodies brushed. Those fingers, so agile at catching the snitch, curled around his fist, and lightning shot up his arm.

"I'm not doing anything, Snape!" The Gryffindor argued. "It's your stupid door!"

Severus sneered at the brat before releasing him and turning back to the door. It was possible that his wards had malfunctioned. He drew his wand anew and began poking at the wards. They were still intact, and they hadn't been triggered. His scowl deepening, he began to cast every unlocking charm he held in his considerable repertoire of spells. None worked, as the knob remained stubbornly still in his palm. Finally, he released a growl of frustration and cast a hex that should have reduced the door to splinters. The wooden barrier did little more than rattle in it's frame.

"Dammit, Potter, what did you do?!" Severus demanded crossly.

Potter gaped back angrily.

Harry gaped at his professor angrily. "I didn't do anything!" He insisted.

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?!" Snape scoffed.

Harry scoffed back. "Why shouldn't you? How do I know this isn't some damn ploy of yours?"

"Why in the hell would I lock myself in here with you?!"

"Why would I?" Harry shot back. "Maybe you've got some sick, perverted hero worship going through that greasy head of yours!"

Severus reached out and curled his fingers in the younger wizard's shirt a second time. Perhaps Potter had seen the murderous look in his eye, perhaps he had seen the glint of fear that he had come too close to the truth, but that was when Potter struck him. It was a pathetic excuse for a punch, it was clear the Gryffindor was unaccustomed to physical fights despite the toned muscle that informed his silhouette, but his knuckles collided with Severus' jaw all the same. It didn't hurt, but it surprised Severus enough to release the young man. They stood there, mere inches apart, and simply stared at each other with shock written across their features.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I honestly thought-"

"I know," Severus interrupted. He turned back to his desk, still in shock.

Harry followed. "I really am sorry," He tried again.

"I know," Severus said again, trying to keep the thickness in his voice from reaching the younger man's ears.

Harry sighed. "So…what do we do?"

Severus sighed as well, sitting at his desk. "There is nothing _to_ do. You've apologized, and that will be the end of it."

Harry blushed. "Oh…thanks. But what about the door?"

"It is warded," Severus answered calmly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Apparently, there is someone who doesn't wish us to leave."

"Oh," Harry said again. He took up on one of the desks, and cringed when Snape didn't immediately make him get down. He'd really fucked up this time.

They were each silent for several minutes.

"You really thought I would have-"

"No!" Harry said quickly. Severus scowled doubtfully and the younger wizard blushed. "Alright, yes, I did. I just kept seeing that jar of cockroaches you threw at my head in Fifth Year."

"It's not as if you didn't deserve it," Severus pointed out.

Harry chuckled in embarrassment. "Hey, I'm not saying I didn't deserve it _this_ time. I guess I've just got a more heightened fight or flight response these days."

"The war is over, Potter."

"Maybe for you," Harry said sadly. "The Wizarding World still looks to me to fight the next baddie that crops up, just like they looked to Dumbledore after he defeated Grindelwald."

Severus finally lifted his black gaze to stare with sudden comprehension into his student's equally understanding emeralds.

"Dumbledore!" They each announced simultaneously.

Harry chuckled. "Oh that just figures."

Severus frowned. "But…why?"

Harry cleared his throat, and couldn't stop his blush. If anyone had figured out how he felt, it would have been Dumbledore. But even _he_ didn't have enough Gryffindor courage to address it. He carefully avoided Severus' gaze, who looked on suspiciously.

"I-I don't know," Harry said, his voice tight.

Severus scowled. He knew why he felt embarrassed by Albus' manipulations, but why would Potter…? Comprehension dawned. Could Potter…? But, no, that was surely too cliché. They each saw the other as the enemy, and Potter especially had shown no change towards him. Severus knew, he had looked for the last two months, hoping to find _some_ sign that his feelings…But there had never been anything. If anything, Potter had seemed to hate him _more_ since his return to the school. So why was Potter carefully attempting, and failing at, innocent nonchalance?

Severus smirked as a plan began to form in his mind. "I suppose it is both our fault," He said slyly, drawing Harry's inquisitive gaze. "Albus is forever attempting to improve my relationship with my students, especially in regards to you. If only there were some way to put a stop to his infuriating manipulations."

Harry barked a laugh before he could stop himself. Severus looked at him with falsely innocent curiosity. Harry blushed.

"I-I was just thinking about how messed up it would be if we were to become more than just friendly towards each other."

"Explain."

Harry cleared his throat, and Severus carefully hid a smirk.

"Like…I don't know, like if we were to kiss or something. He'd probably die of shock."

Severus considered this carefully. "I was actually thinking that the best way to confound the Headmaster would be to remain stubborn in the face of his manipulations. He can't keep us in here forever. However, I find your idea has merit. The look on his face would certainly be worth what would likely be an otherwise uncomfortable experience. Shall we test your theory?"

Harry wanted to smack himself. "No, your idea is better," He said, lowering his eyes.

Severus smirked mischievously. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry scoffed and looked up stubbornly. "Not of you," He said clearly.

Severus stood up and rounded his desk. "I think you are scared," He cajoled. "Don't tell me the great Harry Potter is afraid of a little kiss. Or are you just afraid of someone finding out just how bad a kisser you really are? Miss Chang certainly seemed to think so."

Harry scowled and leapt off the desk he'd been sitting on. "I am not!" He fired back defensively. Somewhere deep down he knew he was being manipulated, but he wasn't sure if that wasn't just wishful thinking. Why else would it seem like Snape was trying to con him into a kiss? Harry's scowl deepened. Obviously, the man intended to use this moment against him later. Either he would tease him for being a wuss, or he'd make fun of him for being a bad kisser. Well, Harry wasn't going to play his game. He sneered at the Potions Master. "You think you're so clever?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow imperiously. "I know I am."

As soon as the man was close enough, Harry fisted his hands in the black robes and dragged him forward. Their chests met, and Harry smirked up into the surprise on Severus' face before standing on his toes to plant a leisurely, insistent kiss on thin, pale lips. Severus smirked into the kiss. His fingers gripped slim hips bruisingly as he leaned into the kiss, pouring in all the fervor he had yearned to release the last few months.

Harry felt desire flash up his spine, and fought the urge to pull away. He wasn't a coward, and he was going to force Snape to eat his words. Unfortunately, in such close proximity it was impossible to shove aside the desire as he had done so many times before. Fired arced through his veins, his heart pounded rapidly in his chest and in his ears. When those fingers gripped his hips, marking him with their strength, he pressed closer to the taller form needily. Snape seemed far from wanting to pull away, as he deepened the kiss, pressing back so that their bodies warred for the same space. Harry groaned as fresh need lit up his nerves.

Severus pulled away, breathing harshly. "Well, no one could ever mistake you for a coward," He said lightly. "A bad kisser, however…"

Harry smirked and shifted his hands up to thin shoulders, his right circling around to burrow into soft, thick, raven black hair. "Shut up, git."

For a second time, Harry leant up to capture those deliciously thin lips, and Severus met him halfway. Somewhere beyond the universe of just they two, a door clicked open to allow four pairs of eyes to peer in triumphantly. Miles above them, in his office on the Seventh Floor, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a slight glint of mischievous knowing in his ocean-blue eyes. Reaching forward, he popped a congratulatory lemon drop into his mouth, and murmured into the empty room.

"Mischief managed."


End file.
